


Why Don't You Call Me Something Dirtier?

by riots



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:50:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riots/pseuds/riots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Making out in a bathroom, hyung, that's stupid. One of us has to be responsible.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Don't You Call Me Something Dirtier?

“On stage?” Yifan hisses through his teeth, pushing Jongin back against the door until his shoulders hit it with a solid thump. Jongin likes the way his brow furrows in anger, one big hand splayed across Jongin's chest, pinning him there. “What were you thinking?”

Jongin knows the question is mostly rhetorical, which is why he flicks the lock on the bathroom door shut before lunging forward, surprising Yifan by catching his mouth in a hard kiss. It's sloppier than he'd like, but Yifan is still trying to push him back, even as his lips part under Jongin's and his head tips towards him. “Wasn't,” Jongin pants. “Just wanted to get a hand on your ass.”

With a growl, Yifan shoves him back again, and Jongin's head bounces off the door, hard enough to set stars off behind his eyes. “Fuck,” Jongin mutters, and he slams his hands against Yifan's chest in retaliation.

Yifan stumbles back a few steps. “You're so fucking stupid sometimes,” Yifan tells him, even as he's closing the distance between them again, forcing his knee between Jongin's legs and grinding hard against him. The friction is just this side of too much, makes Jongin grunt and squirm against Yifan. Grabbing a handful of Yifan's shirt, Jongin lunges at him again, closing his teeth on Yifan's lip and pulling.

The low noise Yifan makes in the back of his throat, all irritation and desire, makes Jongin flush and work a hand down between them, pressing his palm against Yifan. He can feel him already getting hard, even through his pants. It gives him a rush, knowing that he can get the duizhang worked up like this, and so fast, too. He laves his tongue across Yifan's lip and then, without warning, wriggles out from underneath him.

Jongin waits until Yifan, a bit red-faced, his hair in disarray, turns to him and frowns, and then he smiles. “Stupid?” he pants. “Making out in a bathroom, hyung, that's stupid. One of us has to be responsible.” He unlocks the door and darts through, pausing only to raise his eyebrows and grin at Yifan. “I would have expected more from you, you know?” The fury and frustration on Yifan's face is _so_ worth it. He slams the door and runs, only slowing when he passes a member of staff walking around backstage.

He knows Yifan won't let this slide. As he rejoins the rest of his group, Kyungsoo slings an arm around his waist and fixes his hair without comment. Jongin can't wait to see how Yifan gets him back.

 

 

-

 

 

He's not disappointed. For the rest of the day, Yifan is cold and sharp with him, to the point where Jongin catches Joonmyun watching them, concerned. Jongin waves him off. It would take a lot more than Yifan snapping at him to bum him out. That was kind of the point, after all.

When they get back at the dorm that night, though, there's a shift in Yifan's expression. His irritation seems to have melted away, replaced by his more usual calm. It rubs Jongin the wrong way. He hadn't gotten Yifan all riled up this afternoon just to have him _ignore_ him all evening.

Over dinner, Jongin glowers at Yifan, at how he chooses to sit at the complete opposite end of the table, the way his eyes skate over Jongin, the aggravating amusement that plays on his lips. He glares down at his plate, poking at his food. This was not the result he'd wanted.

He excuses himself early, throwing his plate into the sink with a clatter. Joonmyun will get after him later for not washing it, but he really doesn't care right now. He'd been anticipating a good night, and now it looks like he's going to be disappointed.

Before he can turn to head to his room, a big hand wraps around his wrist, pulling his arm behind his back and pinning him uncomfortably against the counter. “Your room,” Yifan says, his voice a low growl in his ear. “One hour.” Jongin wants to complain, but Yifan digs his thumb into his wrist, grinding against bone. It sends a jolt of pure heat down Jongin's spine and he nods. As he pulls away, Yifan drags his thumbnail up his arm. Jongin can't help the way he's grinning.

He passes through the living room on his way to his room and Kyungsoo raises his eyebrows at him as he sticks his fork in his mouth. Passing behind him, Jongin ducks to murmur into Kyungsoo's ear. “Can you like, sleep somewhere else tonight or something?” He's trying not to flush but Kyungsoo isn't helping anything, with how he snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Laundry for a month,” Kyungsoo tells him, when he can speak again.

Jongin is outraged. “A week!” he hisses.

“Deal,” Kyungsoo agrees serenely. The rest of the group is watching them curiously, and Jongin bites off the complaint that's on the tip of his tongue. He so doesn't need anyone prying right now. Kyungsoo is grinning like the cat that got the canary and Jongin thinks he should be a better friend, but he just knocks his knuckles against Kyungsoo's shoulder and then ducks into his room.

The waiting drives him nuts. Jongin sits on his bed and fiddles with his ring before he discards it on his bedside table. All of his anticipation comes back in a physical rush, making him swallow and clench his hands into fists against his knees. There's always been something about Yifan that makes Jongin want to push all his buttons, see how long it takes him to snap and fight back. And when he does, it's always so satisfying.

Jongin's head jerks up when he hears the door open. The rest of the group has split up again, off to their respective rooms or busy with studying, but Yifan's expression is still carefully casual as he slips inside. Jongin swallows, doing his best to hide his eagerness, and he doesn't get up. “Took you long enough,” he grumbles.

Grabbing a handful of Jongin's shirt, Yifan hauls him to his feet. “Show a little respect,” Yifan tells him, and that low, rough edge to his voice is back. It pulls a grin to Jongin's mouth, wide and bright and all teeth. “I'm your hyung, your duizhang.” He uses his grip on Jongin's shirt to tug him into a quick, ungentle kiss.

Jongin returns it readily, ignoring Yifan's hand and hooking an arm around his shoulders, crushing their bodies together. “Is that what you are?” Jongin mutters against Yifan's mouth, and Yifan nips hard at his lip in response. “Doesn't respect have to be earned?”

Yifan's eyes narrow, his gaze dark, and Jongin's smile only gets wider, Using the hand between them, Yifan pries Jongin off him, shoving him back until his thighs hit the desk and his head glances off the wall. “You're such a little prick,” Yifan tells him, and Jongin pulls at Yifan's shirt, hard enough that it's stretching it out of shape. Yifan slaps his hand away and Jongin ignores him, redoubling his efforts until Yifan just takes it off, tossing it aside.

“Is that the best you've got?” Jongin asks. He digs his nails into Yifan's hips, dragging him forward. His eyes slide shut and Yifan sucks a breath through his teeth, but he doesn't push Jongin's hands away. Instead, he pushes a hand through Jongin's hair and pulls, hard, baring Jongin's throat for his teeth.

Yifan is always careful not to mark Jongin up. He knows that Jongin, even more than the rest of them, is always on display, so when he closes his teeth on Jongin's skin, it's just this side of hard enough. It still makes Jongin groan softly, pushing his thumbs into Yifan's hips. It's not enough. He hooks a heel around Yifan's thigh and drags him forward til they're pressed flush together.

Annoyed, Yifan tugs sharply on Jongin's hair, tongue marking a slick trail from his collarbone to his ear. “Needy,” Yifan mutters. His breath is hot against Jongin's skin.

“Shut up.” Jongin twists and finds Yifan's mouth again. The hard press of his lips only fuels the heat in his chest, and he nips again at Yifan. It's hard to tell if the noise Yifan makes is one of pleasure, or irritation, or both, but Jongin takes it as encouragement. He presses his hands firmly enough into Yifan's skin to bruise. He wants him to have marks in the morning.

This is everything he has ever wanted, the splay of Yifan's fingers across his ribs, the snap of his teeth at his throat, the press of his chest, close enough to feel his heat and his heartbeat. Yifan pulls away just far enough to drag Jongin's shirt off, and smiles, just a little.

Jongin grins in response and shoves him away, hopping off the desk and following. Never graceful, Yifan catches his heel on the floor and loses his balance, falling backwards. Startled, Jongin reaches out for him, and Yifan catches his wrist, taking them both down. Jongin does his best to catch himself and only half succeeds, a hastily flung out hand stopping him from landing with all his weight on Yifan's chest.

He still ends up sprawled across Yifan, laughing at the look of annoyance and embarrassment on his face. “So graceful,” Jongin smirks. Yifan narrows his eyes and his hands fall to Jongin's waist, pinning him there as he deliberately arches his hips up.

Jongin's breath hisses through his teeth but he's not complaining, except maybe about how many layers there are between them. Too many. He sits up, settling his weight on Yifan's thighs while he fights with his belt. “Why does this thing have like seven clasps?” he grumbles. “You're such a girl.”

Raising his eyebrows, Yifan knocks Jongin's hands away and unbuckles it himself. “You say that like you're not trying to get a hand on my dick.” It takes a bit of manoeuvring but they manage to get Yifan's jeans and boxers off. “Gotta do better than that to insult me.” The tail end of his words are cut off when Jongin curls his fingers around his cock and squeezes just a bit too hard. He likes the way Yifan groans, and even if he isn't hard yet, he's getting there.

Despite the way that Jongin is sitting firmly on his legs, jerking him off lazily, Yifan shifts, trying to dislodge him. Always wants to be in control. Jongin bends his head, closing his teeth gently around a nipple just to distract Yifan. He's rewarded with a quiet yelp, and then Yifan is working his hand against Jongin's jeans.

There's a flush spreading across Yifan's pale chest, and it makes Jongin bite his lip and grin. There's nothing he likes so much as seeing the effect he has on Yifan. Yifan who tries so hard to be cool and collected. He likes this better, likes the way his eyes darken and his breath gets short and the sharp bruises he presses into Jongin's thighs, where no one can see them but him. It's a side only Jongin gets, and that's just the way he likes it.

It really doesn't take long for Jongin to become uncomfortably hard, between his tight jeans and Yifan's insistent pressure, and he has to slide away, climbing to his feet to shimmy out of his pants. He stands above Yifan, one foot on either side of his hips, cock jutting out in front of him. Unimpressed, Yifan props himself up on his elbows and tilts his head to the side. “I know you think you're some kind of god,” Yifan tells him, and holds out a hand. “But it's nothing I haven't seen before.”

Annoyed, Jongin makes a face that's suspiciously close to a pout and drops to his knees again. He doesn't take Yifan's hand, but Yifan is unaffected, choosing instead to settle his long fingers against Jongin's ribcage. He sits up and hooks his free hand around Jongin's neck, pulling him in and kissing him, rough and deep and thorough.

Jongin meets him halfway, fitting a hand between them to wrap around Yifan's dick again. He sets a slow pace, knowing that it'll drive Yifan nuts, and he's not disappointed. Yifan groans into Jongin's mouth each time Jongin lets his hand pause, his hips moving up in tiny jerks.

Jongin doesn't bother to hide his pleasure at that and when Yifan pulls away to look at him, his lips tighten. “You know,” he says, and he stretches back a hand to feel in Jongin's bedside table drawer. “If you want to play dirty, two can play at that game.” Eyes widening in anticipation, Jongin bites his lip as Yifan slicks up his fingers and reaches behind him.

Jongin sinks his teeth into Yifan's shoulder as he works his fingers into him. It's just a little too careful, and Jongin's too impatient. He reaches down to wrap a hand around Yifan's wrist, holding him in place while he grinds down against his fingers. When his eyes flick up to Yifan's face, the exasperation in his expression makes him laugh breathlessly. Before he can say anything, Yifan adds a third and Jongin keens as Yifan brushes his fingertips in just the right way.

His smug expression would be infuriating if Jongin thought about it, but he can't, not when he's got an arm hooked around Yifan's shoulders for balance as he fucks himself on Yifan's fingers. Yifan is far too good at this, and far too proud of that fact, and it's got Jongin bucking desperately against him. His breath is short and he hates the whiny edge to the noises that Yifan is coaxing out of him. “Jesus, just...fuck me already.”

“Why?” Yifan leans in to speak into Jongin's ear, voice just barely audible. His movements become more insistent, and Jongin has to muffle his shout in Yifan's shoulder. He's about to come, embarrassingly fast, if Yifan doesn't stop. “Getting a bit impatient?” He drags his mouth up the line of Jongin's jaw and licks the shell of his ear, stilling the movements of his hand. Jongin is about three seconds from clocking him or coming all over himself.

“ _Yifan_ ,” he grits out. Despite the self-satisfied look on Yifan's face, he's flushed, sweaty, and just as much of a mess as Jongin. He can already see the bruises forming on Yifan's collarbones. Yifan is holding out for something, though. Jongin grimaces. He hates it when Yifan makes him do this. “ _Hyung_. Please.”

Pleased, Yifan smiles, swiping his tongue into Jongin's mouth before he reaches one long arm back to Jongin's drawer again. “How's that for earning respect?” Jongin glowers at him. He flinches when Yifan pulls his fingers out, and he's impressed at how Yifan manages to roll on the condom in the tiny space between them. “Although, next time, remember that it's 'ge'.”

Jongin has had quite enough of Yifan's shit. He uses all of his weight to push Yifan down until he's flat on his back again, and then shifts forward, wrapping a hand around the base of Yifan's cock. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he says, and lifts his weight up and over Yifan.

Jongin's mouth falls open as he sinks down, too fast. Yifan's watching him with dark eyes, breathing hard as Jongin digs his nails into Yifan's shoulders. “Fuck,” Jongin groans. Below him, he can see Yifan's eyebrows furrow, faintly concerned, but Jongin stops him by rolling his hips a little. “No, c'mon, c'mon.”

The stretch, it's too much, but that's just the way Jongin likes it. He lets his weight settle against Yifan until he's buried to the hilt and he swallows, eyes sliding shut. Yifan smooths an uncharacteristically gentle hand down his side and Jongin's head jerks forward staring down at him. “I'm good,” he says, unnecessarily, and ignores the jolt in his stomach when Yifan raises an eyebrow.

To prove his words, he lifts his hips and drops down, craving the way that Yifan moans, his hands tightening against Jongin's thighs. It's a little easier, and it gets easier with each slide of his hips, especially when Yifan is arching up to meet him, never one to just lay back and let Jongin do the work. Jongin settles his hands flat against Yifan's chest and rides him in earnest, sweaty hair in his eyes as he pants.

Yifan's grip on his thighs is brutal, anchoring him with the bite of his fingers as Jongin arches back. The angle is perfect. While the voice at the back of his head tells him that he needs to be quiet, the rest of his group is just through the walls, all he can think about right now is the solid slap of Yifan's hips as he fucks up into him and how close he is already, without even being touched.

He's startled when Yifan wraps his long fingers tightly around his cock. “Come for me,” Yifan says quietly, his tone commanding. Jongin wants to hold out longer, he really does, but Yifan's always known just how to jerk Jongin off. It only takes a few firm strokes before Jongin comes with a shout, muffled by the back of his hand.

Yifan wipes the come off his hand on to Jongin's belly, fingers dragging over his skin to his hip, gripping him hard. Jongin's mostly pliant now, but he gives as good as he got, rolling his hips with a kind of lazy vigour until Yifan's head drops back against the floor with an audible thunk and he groans.

It takes Jongin a few seconds to get up the energy to climb off of Yifan, wincing a little as he settles himself on the floor next to Yifan, leaning against the bed. Yifan doesn't move. “Clean yourself up,” Jongin grumbles. He reaches for a shirt himself, trying to get at the come on his belly before it gets tacky and hard to clean off. “Don't be gross.”

Yifan straightens up and raises an eyebrow. “You're one to talk,” he says, amused, but he does as Jongin suggests. He ends up sitting next to Jongin, eyes half-closed. Jongin can see the sweat on his throat and has the impulse to lick it off, but he's too tired.

There are bruises already starting to form on his thighs, red marks already turning purple, and Yifan brushes a hand across them. “Got you good tonight, didn't I?” he says, and the question is mostly rhetorical. Jongin shrugs a shoulder, but turns to watch Yifan curiously out of the corner of his eye as he gently presses against them.

It sends a jolt of electricity through Jongin, the dull ache of the marks and the thoughtful look on Yifan's face. “I'll be fine,” Jongin says, and he has no idea whether or not he wants to push away Yifan's hands or reach out to grab them. Yifan raises his eyebrows and Jongin makes a face. “I've had worse.”

Yifan can't argue with that. His hand stills on Jongin's thigh and just rests there for a second. “Well,” he says finally. “We have an early schedule tomorrow. Better get some sleep.” He climbs to his feet, and Jongin can see the full extent of the night's exertion written on Yifan's skin, in the teeth marks on his shoulder and the fingerprints on his chest. It makes him swallow hard. Yifan holds out a hand for Jongin and this time he takes it, lets Yifan help him to his feet.

The bed is small and Yifan is not, but they manage it anyway, Yifan's long arms looped around Jongin's chest and their legs tangled together. Jongin knows that this is a disaster, knows that when someone comes to wake them in the morning they'll be caught, but Yifan is supposed to be the responsible one, and tonight, Jongin just likes the way Yifan's breath huffs out against the back of his neck and the pleasant ache in his bones.


End file.
